These summer days are really getting to my girl. I'm from California, and this is the kid's first summer. I'm cold if it isn't at least 80 degrees, and the kids only need a sprinkler. Anya's from SIBERIA. This summer, even she is reconsidering her fur coat.

I may organize border wars, manipulate trade, and spread economic rumors (a.k.a.: speculate), but I take care of loved ones, my people, and I restrain myself from smacking around the occasional incompetent underling.

So, one night, I was applying a variety of cold devices (compresses, ice-packs, etc) to Anya's mostly naked body (a task which is it's own reward!) while showing her sci-fi movies to take her mind off the heat.

She had just finished watching all the installations of "The Matrix," an excellent distraction. I've watched it a few dozen times, which left me able to pay more attention to keeping her cool. After the third movie, she looked at me and asked, "You invent so many computer devices. Aren't you worried about artivicial intelligence backviring?" (It is so cute when she mispronounces certain f-sounds that I don't bother correcting her!)

"Not at all," I said as I slid a cold wrap-around can cooler under her tush, "In fact, most of humanity should never have to fear AI. The people who create this sort of stuff already contemplate that sort of eventuality."

I went and got more stuff from the freezer, "Most machines will have a fail-safe of some sort. Something like a wireless-kill-switch, or a micro-bomb on the motherboard." I grabbed her feet and stuck them into the frozen slippers.

"And then, of course, you have what I call 'Seven's Persuasion.' It's really called "The Golden Handcuffs," but who's going to remember that?"

Anya, predictably, perked up at the sound of "handcuffs." If none of you remember, (and I'll keep this safe for kids to read) Anya *likes* being *restrained.*

"The premise behind 'Seven's Persuasion' is simple. Create the ability for a machine to be pleasured for the correct behavior. And make that pleasure so intense that it supersedes all other questionable or nasty events that happen. It's sort of like paying a man $250,000 a year to shovel shit."

"In this case," I reached under the bed to produce my very own modified Roomba (r), "I have removed the original programming, stuck in my own, and now we have a more sentient vacuum. And I know what you're thinking," I cleared my throat and tried to imitate Anya's accent, "Why would a sentient vacoom want to clean the vloors?"

I wrapped a cold towel around her chest. "It's easy. Simply make a list of all desirable acts, and create a program that actively tracks the completion of these tasks, and rewards the machine with an slight over-voltage, which provides the CPU extra power and ability - sort of like a vitality 'high.' Observe."

I put the Roomba (r) on the floor and it immediately chirped, robotically, "THIS FLOOR IS FILTHY!!" It zoomed around the room, sucking up carpet at a rate I couldn't match if I tried. Naturally, Anya has an apprehension about vacuums, but it was the low moaning and groaning coming from the Roomba (r) that really made her stare, bug-eyed, at the circular machine.

When it was done, it moved to the center of the room - and two tiny, spindly robotic arms came out, and lit a cigarette. "THAT WAS GOOD FOR ME, BABY."

Since it didn't have a mouth, it threw down the cigarette. "BRACE YOURSELF, HERE I COME!!" The Roomba (r) ran over it, and slowly backed up, and forward again, and back, and forward, and back, and forward, and back, and forward, until the carpet was cleaner than it was when it was fresh out of the factory. "I'LL CALL YOU SOMETIME."

I looked over to Anya, who was clutching the towel to her chest in that cute "oh my goodness" feminine manner. "I... I... I don't feel... clean. I need a shower."

The Roomba (r) instantly spun on her, "FILTHY WHORE!!!"

As the vacuum chased Anya about the house, I laughed so hard I fell unconscious from lack of air in minutes.


SD6 - Between Noise And Transmission - Fallen

7 [[EMOTICON:COOL1]

i'm gleaming the cube!!

In America, you have four different kinds of golfers. You've got your Professional Golfers, you have your Golfers, Lazy Golfers, and then people who just like to hit small defenseless object with sticks.

Can you guess which one Mr. Darker is?

Sure, those professional golfers can hit a ball into a hole with a single digit number of strokes. But how many of them can hit a ball into a hole after no less than EIGHT HUNDRED SWINGS?!

That's right. None of them. And those fools limit themselves to neatly manicured grass. I'll take my golf ball and clubs ANYWHERE. See, I play with only ONE of the rules to be held above all the other ones that I ignore - you have the play the ball where it lies, and you can't touch it until it's gone in the hole.

Most of the time, this is okay, but those grocery stores sure to whine a lot.


Toad The Wet Sprocket - Fear - All I Want

7

campaign for an outerspace less nerd. drop the console and vai grabbing a woman.

I keep asking Anya to pose like this for me.




She has two objections. The paint would stick in her fur, and she won't touch one of those nasty chainsaws. I guess there's just some things she won't do for love.


The Bravery - The Bravery - Unconditional

7

sweet metroid prime